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Six Months Among
Cannibals

Lippincott's

A HALT IN THE BRUSH.

Perhaps as good an illustration of the purely absurd
(according to civilized notions) as can be imagined is a
congregation of cannibals in a missionary church weeping
bitterly over the story of Calvary. Fresh from their revolting
feasts upon the flesh of their conquered enemies, these gentle
savages weep over the sufferings of One separated from them by
race, by distance, by almost every conceivable lack of the
conditions for natural sympathy, and by over eighteen hundred
years of time! Surely there must be hope for people who
manifest such sensibility,
and we may fairly question
whether cannibalism be necessarily the sign of the lowest human
degradation. A good deal of light is thrown upon the subject by
the writings of the young engineer, Jules Garnier, who was
lately charged by the French minister of the interior with a
mission of exploration in New Caledonia, the Pacific island
discovered by Captain Cook just one hundred years ago, and
ceded to the French in 1853.

It is about three hundred and sixty miles from Sydney to New
Caledonia, a long, narrow island lying just north of the Tropic
of Capricorn, and completely surrounded by belts of coral reef
crenellated here and there, and forming channels or passes
where ships may enter. Navigation through these channels is,
however, exceedingly hazardous in any but calm weather; and it
was formerly thought that the island was on this account
practically valueless for colonization. Once inside them,
however, vessels may anchor safely anywhere, for there is in
effect a continuous roadstead all around the island. The
passage through the narrow pass of Dumbea, just outside of
Noumea, affords a striking spectacle. On each side of the ship
is a wall of foam, and the reverberating thunder of the waves
dashing and breaking upon the jagged reefs keeps the mind in
breathless suspense.

The site of Noumea seems to be the most unfortunate that
could be chosen. It is a barren, rocky spot, divested of all
luxuriance of vegetation, and the nearest water, a brook called
Pont des Français, is ten miles away. The appearance of
the town, which fronts the harbor in the form of an
amphitheatre, the houses and gardens rising higher and higher
as they recede from the sea, tended somewhat to reassure the
explorer, who had been wondering that human stupidity should
have been equal to selecting in a tropical country, and in one
of the best-watered islands of the world, such a situation for
its capital. Wells are of little account, for the water thus
obtained is at the level of the sea, and always salt. The
population has to depend upon the rain that falls on roofs, and
as the cleanliness of these is of prime importance,
domesticating pigeons is strictly forbidden. This might not be
much of a deprivation in most places, but in New Caledonia, of
all the world, there is a kind of giant pigeon as large as a
common hen! This is the noton, (sic) the Carpophage
Goliath of the naturalist.

The hotel at Noumea was a kind of barracks, with partitions
so slight that every guest was forced to hear every sound in
his neighbors' rooms. M. Garnier, to escape this inconvenience,
purchased a garden-plot, had a cottage built in a few days, and
so became a proprietor in Oceanica. Before setting out on his
exploring expedition into the interior he tried to interest the
government in a plan for cisterns to supply the city with
water—a project easy of execution from the natural
conformation of the locality. But his scheme received no
encouragement from the old-fogyish authorities. They were at
that moment entertaining one which for simplicity reminded
Garnier of the egg problem of Columbus. This was to distill the
sea-water. He made a calculation of the cost of thus supplying
each of the sixteen hundred inhabitants with five quarts of
water a day, which showed that the proposition was
impracticable under the circumstances.

From the showing of official accounts, this French colony of
New Caledonia must be one of the most absurd that exists. The
military and naval force far exceeds in number the whole civil
population; and this, too, when the natives are quiet and
submissive, few in number, and fast dying out through the
inordinate use of the worst kind of tobacco, pulmonary
consumption and other concomitants of civilization not
necessary to enumerate. Contrast this with the rich and
populous province of Victoria, which has only three hundred and
fifty soldiers; with Brisbane, which has only sixteen to a
population of one hundred thousand; and finally Tasmania, which
has only seven soldiers for two hundred thousand colonists!

It was believed formerly that New Caledonia was rich in
gold-mines, and the principal object of the expedition of M.
Garnier was to discover these. After one or two short
excursions in the neighborhood of Noumea he set out on an eight
months' journey through the entire eastern portion of the
island. The plan which he adopted was to double the southern
extremity of the island, sail up the eastern coast between the
reefs and the mainland, as is the custom, stopping at the
principal stations and making long excursions into the
interior, accompanied by a guard of seven men. This plan he
carried out, though some parts of the country to be explored
were inhabited by tribes that had seldom or never seen a
European. His testimony as to the almost unexceptionable
kindness of the natives, cannibals though they are, must be
gratifying to those who accept the doctrine of the brotherhood
of man. Of the natives near Balarde he says: "The moment you
land all offer to guide your steps, and in every way they can
to satisfy your needs. Do you wish to hunt? A native is ever
ready to show you the marsh where ducks most abound. Are you
hungry or thirsty? They fly to the cocoanut plantation with the
agility of monkeys. If a swamp or a brook stops your course,
the shoulders of the first comer are ever ready to carry you
across. If it rains, they run to bring banana-leaves or make
you a shelter of bark. When night comes they light your way
with resinous torches, and finally, when you leave them, you
read in their faces signs of sincere regret."

Captain Cook, in his eulogies of these gentle savages,
probably never dreamed that they were anthropophagi, and if he
had known the fact, his kindly nature would have found some
extenuation for them. Cannibals, as a rule—certainly
those of New Caledonia—do not eat each other
indiscriminately. For example, they dispose of their dead with
tender care, though they despatch with their clubs even their
best friends when dying; but this is with them a religious
duty. They only eat their enemies when they have killed them in
battle. This also, in their code of morals, appears to be a
duty. Toussenel, in his Zoölogie Passionelle, has a
kind word even for these savages: "Let us pity the cannibal,
and not blame him too severely. We who boast of our refined
Christian civilization murder men by tens of thousands from
motives less excusable than hunger. The crime lies not in
roasting our dead enemy, but in killing him when he wishes to
live."

During M. Garnier's expedition he met the chief Onime, once
the head of a powerful tribe, now old and dispossessed of his
power through the revolt of his tribe some years previous. At
that time a price had been put upon his head, and he took
refuge in the mountains. There was no sign of discouragement or
cruelty in his manners, but his face expressed a bitter and
profound sorrow. There was not a pig or a chicken on his
place—for he would have nothing imported by the
papalés, or Europeans—but he gave his
guests a large quantity of yams, for which he would accept no
return except a little tobacco. When, however, Garnier tied a
pretty crimson handkerchief about the head of Onime's child,
who danced for joy at the possession of such a treasure, the
old chief was visibly moved, and gave his hand to the stranger.
Two years later this old man, being suspected of complicity in
the assassination of a colonist, was arrested, bound in chains
and thrown into a dungeon. Three times he broke his chains and
escaped, and each time was recaptured. He was then transported
to Noumea. M. Garnier happened to be on the same ship. The
condition of the old man was pitiful. Deep wounds, exposing the
bones, were worn into his wrists and ankles in his attempts to
free himself from his chains. Three days later he died, and on
a subsequent examination of facts M. Garnier became convinced
that Onime was innocent of the crime charged against him. On
the ship he recognized Garnier, and accepted from him a little
tobacco. Tobacco is more coveted by these people than anything
else in the world, and the stronger it is the better. The child
almost as soon as he can walk will smoke in an old pipe the
poisonous tobacco furnished specially for the natives, which is
so strong that it makes the most inveterate European smoker
ill. "Gin and brandy have been introduced successfully,"
but the natives as a rule make horrible grimaces in drinking
them, and invariably drink two or three cups of water
immediately to put out the fire, as they say.

These natives speak a kind of "pigeon English." It would be
pigeon French, doubtless, had their first relations been with
the French instead of the English. The government has now
stopped the sale of spirituous liquors to the natives, and
recommended the chiefs to forbid their subjects smoking until a
certain age, but no precautions yet taken have had much
influence upon their physical condition. They are rapidly dying
out. The most prevalent disease is pulmonary consumption, which
they declare has been given them by the Europeans. Fewer and
fewer children are born every year, and in the tribes about
Poöbo and some others these are almost all males. Here is
a curious fact for scientists. Is not the cause to be found in
the deteriorated physical condition of the women? Mary Trist,
in her careful and extensive experimentation with butterfly
grubs, has shown that by generous feeding these all develop
into females, while by starving males only appear.

M. Garnier believes that the principal cause of the
deterioration and decay of the natives in New Caledonia is the
terrible tobacco that is furnished to them. "Everybody pays for
any service from the natives in this poison." A missionary once
asked a native convert why he had not attended mass. "Because
you don't give me any tobacco," replied this hopeful Christian.
To him, as to many others, says M. Garnier, going to church
means working for the missionary, just as much as digging in
his garden, and he therefore expects remuneration. The young
girls in regions where there are missions established all wear
chaplets, for they are good Catholics after a fashion, and
generally refuse to marry pagans. This operates to bring the
young men under the religious yoke. Self-interest is their
strong motive generally. The missionary makes them understand
the value of his counsel in their tribes. It means their
raising cocoanuts for their oil, flocks of chickens and droves
of hogs, for all of which they can obtain pipes, quantities of
tobacco, a gun, and gaudy-colored cottons. When the chiefs find
that their power is gradually passing from them into the hands
of the missionaries, they only smoke more poisonous tobacco,
expose themselves all the more to the weather through the cheap
fragmentary dress they have adopted, and so the ravages of
consumption are accelerated. Pious Christian women, who have
always given freely of their store to missionary causes, begin
to see that the results are not commensurate with their
sacrifices—that their charity, even their personal work
among heathens, teaching them to read and write and study the
catechism, to cover their bodies with dress and to love the
arts of civilization, can avail little against the rum, tobacco
and nameless maladies legally or illegally introduced with
Christianity.

During one of M. Garnier's excursions into the interior he
came across one of the sacred groves where the natives bury
their dead, if hanging them up in trees can be so designated.
His guides all refused to accompany him, fearing to excite the
anger of the manes of their ancestors. He therefore entered the
high grove alone. Numerous corpses, enveloped in
carefully-woven mats and then bound in a kind of basket, were
suspended from the branches of the trees. Some of these were
falling in pieces, and the ground was strewn with whitened
bones. It seems strange that this form of burial should be
chosen in a country where at least once a year there occurs a
terrible cyclone that destroys crops, unroofs houses, uproots
trees, and often sends these basket-caskets flying with the
cocoanuts through the air.

In New Caledonia there are no ferocious beasts, and the
largest animal is a very rare bird which the natives call the
kagon. When, therefore, they saw the English eating the meat
from beef bones they inferred that these were the bones of
giants, and naïvely inquired how they were captured and
what weapons of war they used. The confidence and admiration of
these children of Nature are easily gained, and under such
circumstances they talk freely and delight in imparting all the
information they possess. Among one of the tribes near Balarde,
M. Garnier noticed a young woman of superior beauty, and made
inquiries about her. This was Iarat, daughter of the chief
Oundo. The hornlike protuberances on her head were two "scarlet
flowers, which were very becoming in her dark hair."

IARAT, DAUGHTER OF THE CHIEF OUNDO.

This poor little woman had a history. It is told in a few
words: her father sold her to the captain of a trading-vessel
for a cask of brandy. The "extenuating circumstances" in this
case are that Oundo had been invited on board the captain's
ship, plied with brandy, and when nearly drunk assented to the
shameless bargain. When Oundo became sober he repented of his
act, and the more bitterly because the young girl was betrothed
to the young chief of a neighboring tribe. But he had given
his word, and was as great a moral coward as many of his
betters are, who think that honor may be preserved by dishonor.
Nearly every coaster has a native woman on board—some
poor girl of low extraction, or some orphan left to the mercy
of her chief and sold for a hatchet or a few yards of tawdry
calico; but the daughters of chiefs are not thus delivered over
to the lusts of Europeans. The case of Iarat was an exception.
These coasters' wives, if such they may be called, are said to
be very devoted mothers and faithful servants. All day long
they may be seen managing the rudder or cooking in the narrow
kitchen on deck.

The vessel in the service of M. Garnier left him at Balarde,
near the north-eastern extremity of the island, but, having
determined to explore farther north, he applied to Oundo, who
furnished him with a native boat or canoe and two men for the
expedition. In this boat were stowed the camping and exploring
apparatus and cooking utensils, and three of his men, who were
too fatigued by late excursions to follow Garnier on foot. The
canoe was not very large, and this freight sunk it very low in
the water; yet as the sea was perfectly calm, no danger was
apprehended until, a slight breeze springing up, a sail was
hoisted. The shore-party continued their course, exploring,
digging, breaking minerals, etc., generally in sight of the
canoe, which M. Garnier watched with some anxiety. Suddenly,
Poulone, his faithful native guide, exclaimed, "Captain, the
pirogue sinks!" There was no time to be lost, for one of the
men could not swim at all, and the other two but indifferently.
Fortunately, the trunk of a tree was found near the water, some
paddles were improvised, and this primitive kind of boat was
quickly afloat, with the captain and Poulone on board. The
canoe was some rods from the shore, but the three men were
picked up, having been supported meanwhile by their dark
companions. The latter did not swim ashore, but the moment they
were relieved from their charges, and without a word, set about
getting the canoe afloat. As to the cargo, it was all in plain
sight, but more than twenty feet under the limpid water. This
was a great misfortune. Some of the instruments were valuable,
and could not be replaced. If not recovered, the expedition to
the north of the island must be abandoned. In this strait
Garnier despatched a messenger back to Oundo, asking the old
chief to come to the rescue with all his tribe. "I did not
count in vain," says he, "upon the generosity of this man, for
very soon I saw him approach, followed by the young people of
his tribe." He listened to the recital of the misfortune with
every sign of sympathy.

"Oundo," said M. Garnier, "I expect that you will once more
show your well-tried friendship for the French people by
rendering me a great service. Do you think you can recover
these things for me?"

"Oundo will try," replied the chief simply. He then
addressed his people and gave his commands. In a moment, and
with a loud cry of approbation and good-will, they dashed into
the water and swam out to the scene of disaster.

It is a fine sight to see these natives of Oceanica, the
best swimmers in the world, darting under the water like bronze
tritons. They generally swim beneath the surface, coming up
from time to time to breathe, and shaking the water from their
thick curly hair. M. Garnier followed the natives on the log
that had served as a lifeboat, and to encourage them by example
undressed and threw himself into the water. The work commenced.
Twenty or thirty feet is not much of a dive for a South Sea
Islander. Every minute the divers brought up some object with a
shout of triumph. They were in their element, and so spiritedly
did they undertake the task that women, and even the children,
dived to the bottom and constantly brought up some small
object. The three guns of the men, their trappings, the heavy
box of zoological specimens, all the instruments, were brought
up in succession. Even the sole cooking-pot of the expedition
and the tin plates were recovered. The work occupied some six
hours. M. Garnier thanked
the chief and his brave people, who when the work was finished
returned to their huts as quietly as they came. And this chief
was the man who had sold his daughter for a keg of brandy!

Another chief, named Bourarte, the head of a great tribe
near Hienguène, deserves a few words. He was a chief of
very superior experience and intelligence. He had studied
civilization diligently, enjoyed the society of Europeans and
knew that his people were barbarians. His story is a most
touching one. He said: "I always loved the English. They
treated me as a chief, and paid me honestly for all they
received. One day I consented to go with them to their great city of Sydney. It was
there that I learned the weakness of my people. I was well
received everywhere, but I longed to return. It was with
pleasure that I saw again our mountains and heard the joyful
cries of welcome from my tribe. About that time your people
came. I paid little attention to them at first, but because one
of my men killed a Kanacka who was a protégé of
the missionaries there came a great ship (the Styx) into my
port. The captain sent for me. I went on board without fear,
but my confidence was betrayed. I was made a prisoner and
transported to Tahiti. It was six years before I saw my tribe
again: they had already mourned me as dead. I will tell you
what happened in my absence. My people prepared for vengeance:
the French were apprised of the fact. They came again. And as
my people, filled with curiosity, flocked to the shore, the
French fired their cannon into the crowd. My people were
frightened and fled into the woods. Your soldiers landed, and
for three days they burned our huts, destroyed our plantations
and cut down our cocoa trees. And all this time," added the old
chief with a heavy sigh, "I was a prisoner at Tahiti, braiding
baskets to gain a little food, and the grief that I suffered
whitened my head before the time."

After a long pause, during which the old Bourarte seemed
lost in thought, he said, "It is true that my people revenged
themselves. They killed a good many, and among them one of your
chiefs. What is most strange about this war is, that three
English colonists, who lived peacefully among us by their
commerce and fishing, were taken by the French and shot.
Another Englishman, Captain Paddon, to whom I had sold many a
cargo of sandal-wood, on learning the fate of his compatriots,
fled on board a little boat with one Kanacka and a few
provisions, got out to sea, and, as I have been told, actually
gained the port of Sydney." This, it seems, is a historical
fact. It was a boat without a deck, and the distance is three
hundred and sixty marine miles!

A KANACKA FAMILY TRAVELING.

The result of the exploring mission of M. Garnier was not a
discovery of gold-mines, as so many had hoped. He is of the
opinion that gold deposits are scarce in the island. His report
of the natives is on the whole favorable, and confirms the
testimony of missionaries and others, that they are superior
savages, easily civilized and Christianized, but from some
cause or combination of causes fast dying out before the
advance of civilization. In some respects they are less rude
than other South Sea Islanders, but they treat their women in
much the same way. M. Garnier gives us a photograph of a New
Caledonia family on the road, the head of the family, a big,
stolid brute apparently, burdened only with his club, while his
wife staggers along under the combined load of sugar-canes,
yams, dried fishes and other provisions.

A more revolting, but also, happily, a far rarer sight, was
that of a cannibal banquet, of which M. Garnier was a concealed
witness. The scene was a thicket in the wildest portion of the
country, and only the chiefs of the tribe, which had just
gained a victory over its enemies, took part in the feast. A
blazing fire threw its bright glare on a dozen figures seated
around huge banana-leaves, on which were spread the smoking
viands of the diabolical repast. A disgusting odor was wafted
toward the spot where our Frenchman and his companions lay
perdu, enchained by a horrible fascination which produced the
sensation of nightmare. Directly in front of them was an old
chief with long white beard and wrinkled skin, who gnawed a
head still covered with the singed hair. Thrusting a pointed
stick into the eye-sockets, he contrived to extract a portion
of the brain, afterward placing the skull in the hottest part
of the fire, and thus separating the bones to obtain a wider
aperture. The click of a trigger close to his ear recalled M.
Garnier to his senses, and arresting the arm of his sergeant,
who, excited to indignation, had brought his musket to his
shoulder, he hurried from a scene calculated, beyond all
others, to thrill the nerves and curdle the blood of a
civilized spectator.